Terror and Love?
by Where the Story Ends
Summary: Henry and Abby each remember for a moment what used to be. Set at the end of episode 11 Splash. Henry/Abby Warning: Character deaths and suicide... spoilers of episode 11.


A/N: I've started to obsess over Harper's Island… and although Henry seems to be the primary suspect for Wakefield's accomplice I still like him… particularly when he's with Abby… thus this is an Abby/Henry fic (starting off at the end of Splash).

To all of my harmony readers I haven't by any means given up on Forgetting the Hate… I've just been exceptionally busy… since schools been out I've been at my house for 4 nights (this happening to be one). I just had a sudden urge to write an Abby/Henry story… I hope its alright. I really hope Ill find the time to actually write another chapter for FtH soon… I'm into the next chapter but it needs more content and polishing for sure. I'm sorry for those of you who were hopeful I would finally be updating FtH… I hate to disappoint you.

Dedication: All those celebrities who died

Disclaimer: I do not under any circumstances own any rights to the Harpers Island series… just another fan fiction writer

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**Terror and… Love?**

Abby flew through the woods at top speed, the trees a blur around her. Henry raced half a pace behind, their guns banged on the ground in their haste. Abby could hardly sense Henry's presence even though she was usually completely aware of him, fear had overridden any of her other emotions. Without warning her right foot had skidded on the final tufts of grass before the cliff, she fell backwards safely into Henry's ever ready arms.

They both stood still entwined, and watched the blonde Brit, Cal, plummet to the water. John Wakefield stood before Chloe his weapon raised as she stood outside the safety of the rail, but yet out of harms way, but for a moment. Then, without warning, she fell, rigid as a board, to the peaceful presence of the glassy water and to her betrothed, even in death.

John Wakefield looked up, as though right at them and then turned away, shocked at the depths of love he had just witnessed. Henry pulled Abby's hand and they slowly made their way back, not that they had a place to go; only graves seemed to surround them.

Henry tried to force himself once again to be absolutely terrified at the prospect of his fiancés death, especially after what he had just seen, instead Abby was his biggest concern. She always was, she had no idea how much he had missed her while she was away in L.A.

"Abby?" Henry asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Do you, um, well remember how it was before, before Wakefield? Er, what I mean to say is, do you remember _us_ before Wakefield?" he asked nervously.

"This doesn't seem like an appropriate time to talk about something like that, the only thing anyone should be talking about is how we're all gonna make it off this alive, or the rest of us that is." Abby said, "And besides, you have Trish to worry about."

"Of course, I'm worrying about Trish too, its just even though I love Trish, it isn't as much, never as much as…" he trailed off.

After that, there was silence; the thickness of the fear that shrouded them was so thick it pressed down on them, almost tangibly. Only the snaps of insignificant twigs, the thud of muddy shoes, and the violent throbbing of terrified hearts could be heard.

Suddenly, Henry pulled Abby behind a tree with him as they watched the profile of Wakefield as he methodically made his way through the woods. Wakefield hesitated, his eyes raking the tree they hid, frozen behind, before he continued, satisfied, back on his murderous trek.

Henry poked his head back around the mangled trunk as Wakefield's form disappeared. Next to him Abby let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. Henry looked at her realizing at that moment they were thinking the same thing, how long until they would see him again.

After, she was completely sure the cold-hearted Wakefield was gone Abby returned Henry's gaze. He turned away, embarrassed about things he had said earlier. Abby wrapped her arm around his waist and almost automatically Henry raised his arm and twined it around her waist.

"Oh, and Henry?…" Abby said, before waiting for Henry's eyes to reach hers, "I remember everything." His only response was to give her waist a single squeeze, and hold her even tighter to his side, each silently reflecting on what used to be.


End file.
